Crimson Hand
by The-Xenocide
Summary: More often than not, a hero’s most epic battle is the one you never see. It’s the battle that goes on within him or herself. Not all of these battles are won. But neither are they all lost. A crossover with Marvel.
1. The Storm That Is To Come

_**Crimson Hand  
**_**A Xenocide Production**

**AN: Greetings, True Believers. I came across an interesting idea over at The FanFiction Forum (go to Hawk's profile and click his homepage button) that was too good to pass up. I'm sure that lots of readers have grown tired of the utterly ridiculous crossovers around here. Excepting fics like **_**The Legend of Uzumaki Naruto**_**, the rest of them are, to be perfectly frank, crap. So, I decided to do a little test run on a Marvel/Naruto crossover. EditAs promised, since I got near to 20 reviews on the first chapter, I decided to add another one, just to see who would bite. I hope that this story catches on. It has potential, methinks.**

**Enjoy and review…………please?**

**Summary: More often than not, a hero's most epic battle is the one you never see. It's the battle that goes on within him or herself. Not all of these battles are won. But neither are they all lost.**

**Disclaimer: I own neither Marvel nor Naruto. I would sell my first born child to any who give me either one. Any takers?**

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**Chapter One: The Storm That Is To Come**

_There are……stars._

_Billions upon billions of tiny pinpricks of cosmic light twinkled solemnly in the inky darkness of space._

_He drifted aimlessly in the void, gazing idly at passing suns and moons._

_It seemed that the cold vacuum of space was all he had ever known, though that couldn't be right. Flashes of faces, people he seemed to know yet did not, images of places he had never been to but were somehow familiar. Names, voices, laughter. He struggled to latch on to these half-formed memories, to grasp them before they could slip through his fingers like so much stardust. But it was futile. They scattered like so many petals on the wind._

_Petals._

_A flash of deep pink, and dark jade floated across his consciousness. Once again familiar, and yet not._

_So he floated, watching the stately dance of the cosmos as it paraded across the heavens. He would most likely have done so until the death of the very last star. _

_But……there was a voice. And it roused him from his contemplation of the universe._

"_**I have called you here for a purpose." **__A voice, devoid of all emotion, and that hinted of things grander than the brightest sun of the universe and of things far darker than the deepest pits of Hell._

_He looked, and suddenly before him was a shrouded Spectre, cloaked in green with arms folded across a silvery chest. Green balefire glowed ominously from his eyes in the depths of the hood._

"_A purpose?" He started, seemingly surprised that he could talk. He looked down, and marveled to see a body, pale white in the light of distant stars. His hands drifted upwards, confirming the contours of his face, and of the strange parallel markings that marred his otherwise smooth cheeks. He existed. And he had a purpose._

"_**I am the Spectre, and my purpose is to**__** exist as the embodiment of the Wrath of God. I pass judgment on the wicked, and dispense justice as it is so deserved."**__ The balefire from beneath the hood flickered slightly. __**"I have need of you, and the foul presence that taints your soul."**_

_Something crimson flickered on the edge of the boy's vision, and he shuddered at the feel of it before it subsided._

"_**You remember. And so does he. That is good."**_

"_Remember what?" The boy struggled to remember. But now, the holes in his memory seethed with crimson, and he gasped when a Great Eye flickered into view. It was there for a mere instant, yet it sent chills wracking down the length of his spine. "But I don't remember! Everything's only half there!"_

"_**That is to be expected. The dead have no need for the memories they once held in life.**__** You are no different, though your memories are not quite altogether gone, for I held your soul back from the Seat of Judgment."**_

_Thoughts spun wildly in the boy's head. That he was dead held no meaning for him. It felt as if he always had been so. But the crimson taint on the edge of his mind and the Heavenly Being that was scrutinizing him impassively left his composure a little more than slightly shaken._

"_What do you need my help for? I'm just a nobody! I'm not important at all…" He trailed off into silence._

"_**That is for me to judge. No life is unimportant in the eyes of God, child. However, your importance to me only entails the task I must complete."**_

_The boy opened his mouth to protest, only to quail from __an icy glare from the Spectre._

"_**I called you here for a purpose, a purpose that only you can fulfill."**_

_The cloaked figure raised his hand, and they were speeding through the stars, traveling billions of miles per second. Through nova clouds, particle storms, between suns, and under moons, they raced. The boy could only gape in awe, not daring to blink lest he miss one bit of it. They finally stopped before a world, one very similar to his own, though the boy could not know that. It was one of many worlds, one of many universes._

_The Spectre pointed at the blue planet. __**"This is Earth, boy. But it is not the only one, nor is it the central one. This universe is but a drop in the ocean, just as yours is but a grain of sand in the desert."**_

_The boy paled, and swayed slightly on his feet. To his credit, he did not faint, as many hundreds before him had done when they learned that their reality was not the only one. _

"_**Normally, my counterpart, the being known as the Living Tribunal, would be overseeing this part of the universes, but it has disappeared, gone as if it had never existed." **__The being's arms folded across his chest once more. __**"Such a thing **_**could not **_**and **_**should not _have__ happened. Yet it has. God is greatly disturbed. The Balance has been thrown into disarray, and it has fallen to me to tend to both of our respective flocks. I have been tasked to seek out the perpetrator and punish him, also attempting to restore the Tribunal to its rightful place."_**

_The boy swallowed, his throat dry and his heart racing. "W-what does this have to do with me? What can I possibly do?"_

_The Spectre's face tightened. __**"I may be the Hand of God, but I am not omnipotent, nor can I be in every place at once. The disappearance of the Tribunal has left many a universe in turmoil, and it is all I can do to hold them together. And so, I came to the conclusion that I needed Hands of my own, ones that could aid me in my search for the Tribunal and aid me in restoring the Balance. I chose you, boy, because I was…how do you say?...scraping the bottom of the barrel."**_

_The boy managed to look vaguely insulted, though the influx of information was hard enough to process without adding insult to injury. _

"_**There is something…odd…about this world, boy. Something that has not yet made itself known to me, which is troubling all in of itself. But I can spare no time for this world. There are others there who are capable of combating this threat, enough so that I can afford to send in a Hand to be my eyes and ears. For all of your faults, and the stain that mars your soul, you are strong enough to seek out this force, this presence that troubles me so." **_

_Words came tumbling forth from the boy's mouth, who had stood frozen in thought as the Wrath of God spoke. "Wait a minute! Don't I have any choice in this!? What if I was perfectly happy dead? What if I don't want to be a Hand, or do what you say?"_

"_**God values freewill, child. I am forbidden from forcing you to carry out my wishes. However…" **__The Spectre seemed to loom in the boy's vision, growing to such great proportions that he could have held the Earth in one hand and the moon in the other. __**"…do you really believe that when you stand before the Judgment of God, he will not see the presence that you harbor within you?"**_

_Crimson flickered._

"_**Can you truly bring yourself to believe that he will be benevolent with a creature that has caused the suffering and deaths of many? I would not. For no matter how pure you may be, the taint ruins you for all the splendor that Heaven has to offer."**_

_The boy did not want to believe it. God was supposed to love all of his children, right? Surely such a loving God would differentiate between a mortal soul and whatever he housed within him?_

"_**The Lord will not allow the taint to sully his other children. As much as it would wrench his heart to do so, he would deny you entrance."**_

_A tear streaked down the boy's face. The Spectre looked on coldly._

"_**But…if the taint were to be cleansed, you would be welcomed with open arms and smiles. If you will do this for me, I will swear on the Almighty Father and the Gates of Heaven themselves that I will cleanse your soul before your Judgment."**_

_It took only a moment for the boy to decide. Though he had no memories, and could not remember the thing that dwelled inside of him, he accepted the Spectre's offer. Some feeling, some whisper deep in his heart, told him that this would make things right, and make them as they should have been, so very long ago._

"_I will be your Hand."_

_The cloaked being merely nodded once. __**"I accept your offer of fealty. I give unto you a part of myself, so that you may right the Balance and always know the healing light of God."**__ He flung open his arms, and green flames licked at the boy's form, engulfing him completely. __**"Go, Uzumaki Naruto. Go forth into this world with my blessing, and may the Hand of God shelter you from the Storm that is To Come!"**_

_And Uzumaki Naruto, for that indeed was his name, he discovered as his vision was filled with flames, vanished in a great flash of light. _

* * *

**Before you ask, yes the italics are on purpose. And secondly, lend me your thoughts and opinions. I eagerly await them.**


	2. A Walk in the Park

**_Crimson Hand  
_A Xenocide Production**

**Enjoy and review…………please?**

**Summary: More often than not, a hero's most epic battle is the one you never see. It's the battle that goes on within him or herself. Not all of these battles are won. But neither are they all lost.**

**Disclaimer: I own neither Marvel nor Naruto. I would sell my first born child to any who give me either one. Any takers?**

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**Chapter Two: A Walk in the Park**

_**Snickt!**_

"All right, old man." A leather clad youth, with sallow skin, greasy black hair, and a knowing sneer on his face lazily held a three inch switchblade against the throat of a portly older gentleman who happened to have the misfortune of being one of New York's faceless mugging statistics. "You know the drill. Gimme your wallet and _maybe_ I'll let you go without adding a few extra holes in your head."

A few snickers burst from his three buddies, all of which were standing at the mouth of the dank alley, preventing escape and deterring the odd passerby from getting too curious. Not that there were that many. This was New York, after all.

The old man, pale and sweating profusely, said not a word as he fished out his wallet with shaking hands and offered it to the thug, who snatched it from his fingers with a laugh. It was better to stay silent and give them what they want. That's what the pamphlets said, at any rate.

The man allowed himself a sigh of relief as the switchblade was detracted and lowered from his throat as the thug perused his wallet.

With no warning at all, the youth's face went from openly pleased to dark with rage. He withdrew a five and a couple of ones from the confines of the wallet. It was this week's grocery money, and all that the old man had left from his meager paycheck. Bills and debts had come first. The racetracks next.

"What….the fuck…..**IS THIS**!?!" He shook the money in front of the old man's face, who was now wheezing in terror and trying to formulate words that would get him home alive. "Eight lousy bucks!? I should have known an old fucker like you wouldn't be carrying some decent cash." He threw the wallet on the ground and tucked the money in his pocket. He fished the blade back out of his pocket and flicked it open, the cold steel gleaming faintly in the streetlight. "And to think, I was going to let you go."

The boys at the mouth of the alley were hooting and cheering, urging the gangbanger on.

"But you wasted my time. Time is money around here, and my time is _very _expensive." He advanced slowly on the old man, a light in his eyes and a primal snarl on his face.

The old man gasped and sputtered voicelessly, throat tight with fear. He held his hands out in a warding gesture, as if that would save him from the youth's wrath.

The youth drew his arm back, fully intending to lash out and carve a pez dispenser in the old man's throat.

_**FWPT!**_

His arm stopped in midswing. The old man was looking above the boy with wide eyes and a trembling lip. He jerked on whatever it was that was holding his arm in one place, but it was no use.

"Now what I have I told you boys about respecting your elders?" A cheerful voice rang from the shadows.

The gangbanger gritted his teeth. Of course that damn wall-crawler would show up on his turf. With a roar, he spun around quickly, hoping to tear the webbing out of the freak's grip and gut the bastard before he could do any of that acrobatic bullshit he was so despised for.

_**FWPT! FWPT!**_

A curse that would have burnt the ears off of those with fainter hearts ripped out of the lad's mouth as he fell face first in the small stream of filth that trickled out of the alley way. He raised his head, both hands and feet bound by a mysterious strong, white, and sticky substance, his switchblade lost in the tumble. He glared upwards, trying to catch a glimpse of the masked menace.

"You useless idiots! Don't just stand there! Kick his ass!" He yelled out to his friends. "You can take him!"

"What the hell? Are you kidding me!?"

"That's Spiderman, Tommy! I ain't gonna mess with that freak!"

"My mom's gonna kill me! I'm outta here!"

And just like that, they were gone. Though judging from the screams, they didn't get very far. He snorted in contempt.

Morons.

He tried desperately to wrangle himself out of the sticky concoction, ignoring the old man, who had located his wallet and was edging for the street, hoping to leave before the wall crawler returned. With a last fearful glance over his shoulder, the old man took off without a backwards glance or a care for his grocery money. Eight bucks was a fair trade for his life, he reckoned.

A few minutes passed in silence, only punctuated by grunts of effort and curses, as the youth frantically tried to get his feet in some kind of working order.

"That stuff doesn't dissolve for about an hour, you know."

The boy's head darted up, and immediately spotted New York's resident web head crouching nonchalantly on the brick wall of the alley. He didn't stop struggling though, despite Spiderman's assurance that he wasn't going anywhere.

"What the hell are you doing here, you bastard!? Don't you got better things to do than go after the small fry?" The boy made an effort at bravado, but staring down one of the world's greatest heroes, who had taken on guys like the Hulk, Venom, and the freakin' Lizard and actually _won_ for fuck's sake, was no easy task for a mere mortal.

"It's been a slow day." Spiderman shrugged lazily. "I was bored. Had nothing better to do. Besides," he added, leaning forwards to whisper conspiratorially, "I hear the Punisher's back in town. He feels a bit miffed at the crime rate."

The boy paled, and stopped struggling, except for the occasional twitch. The Punisher didn't give a rat's ass if you were small fry or the fuckin' Kingpin himself. He'd blow a hole in you just as fast as if he had a crime boss in front of him instead of a mere mugger.

Spiderman hopped down from the wall with a flip, landing crouched in front of boy, who was still as pale as a sheet.

"So you'd better thank your lucky stars that I ran across you first." He reached down and picked the boy up with one hand, easily slinging the unresisting weight over his shoulder. "Let's go and find your friends, ok buddy? It's not nice to leave them hanging."

Five minutes later, the youth was scowling mightily as he swung from a streetlight, completely bound in a web's tight confine and squished together horribly with all three of his friends. One of whom he suspected was gay.

"Goddammit, Jake! That had better be your knife I'm feeling! Otherwise I'm going to slit your throat when we get down!" All four swung gently in the evening breeze. Jake shifted uncomfortably.

Unfortunately for them, and probably most fortunate for Jake, a cop car just happened to come across the trussed youths on their regular patrol and parked directly beneath them. The officers were leaning lazily against the side of the car, waiting patiently for the webbing to dissolve.

"Awful nice of Spiderman to save us the trouble." The officer checked his watch as he spoke. Still quite a bit of time left.

"Indeed it was. We need to write him a thank you card or something." The other cop was idly inspecting the webbing, testing its strength and flexibility.

The youngest of the boys burst into wailing sobs and snuffling tears.

His mom was _really_ going to kill him. Then his dad would reanimate his corpse and tan his hide. His little sister would take pictures of the whole thing and post them on her MySpace.

His life was over.

ß---------------------à

The Amazing Spiderman was currently web-slinging his way down West Broadway, crossing quickly over Sixth Avenue.

It had indeed been a very slow day. Nothing more than a few minor incidents here and there. A mugging, an attempted robbery of a hot dog stand, and the attempted kidnapping of some old bat's pure pedigree poodle. Instead of thanking him, the biddy had whacked him over the head with her purse, which no doubt held twenty cans of dog food, and proceeded to chew him out for scaring her "precious little poochi-pie" so badly with his antics.

He sighed as he swung through heavy traffic on Broome.

While he was glad to have a break from the usual baddies, and the whole 'saving New York' thing, it made for a very bored superhero. Maybe he should turn in early? It was far and few in between that he got a break on the job. He'd learned to take advantage of them as they'd come along. Peace and quiet is necessary from time to time for the continued sanity of a superhero. Well, except for guys like the Punisher. That guy was just _batshit_ crazy. He'd probably snap if he didn't have a lowlife to aim his gun at.

Yes, perhaps he would turn in a little early.

MJ would certainly be surprised to see her husband return so early. Maybe he'd take her out to dinner somewhere, or perhaps a play on Broadway. Phantom of the Opera was always a good choice. Nine times out of ten, it meant a little nookie for the long-suffering husband.

He stopped, perching upon the corner of a ten story building like a cheerfully wrought gargoyle. He contemplated the north for a moment. It was twenty minutes from Broome to Central Park, by way of web, but he decided to head that way anyway. It was still plenty early. A quick circuit on the outskirts of the park wouldn't hurt, just to make sure.

While there might be a slow day from time to time, a hero's work is never done.

With great power comes great responsibility, after all.

ß---------------------à

_He froze. He burnt. He lived. He died. He breathed. He drowned._

_He was reborn through the baptism of green flames, and shudders of pain and ecstasy wracked his frame._

_There were fragments. Bits of memories from a life long gone. He knew his name, but that was all._

_An eye with three commas, spiraling slowly in a fit of patient dread._

_A man with long white hair and a smile on his wrinkled face patted his head fondly._

_A man, clothed all in black and red clouds, grinned viciously, revealing razors lined neatly in a mouth that belonged to predator._

_A foolish boy, dressed in green and still hopelessly naïve to the ways of the world, shouted in triumph as he hugged an older man dressed in the same manner._

_A lone apartment, devoid of luxury and permeated with the scent of loneliness._

_A kind smile from an old man with a funny hat, even as he grasped a sword that jutted bloodily from his chest._

_The swish of a tremendous furred tail as something murmured in the depths of a cage._

_Eyes of green balefire flared from beneath a hood, and they spoke. "**You are my Hand, Uzumaki Naruto. If all else fails you, remember that**."_

_He died again. And was reborn again._

_An unending cycle of death and rebirth until the fragments all ran together in one muddied jumble that threatened to break him._

_But he would not be broken. He was Uzumaki Naruto and no stranger to suffering. Though how he knew that, he could not say. He just did._

_His eyed opened, and alighted on a swathe of leaves that left a heart-rending ache in his chest, for some strange reason._

_But there was no time to reminisce, for his vision was consumed one last time by green. Flames flickered at the edges of his vision suffocating him, until he knew no more. _

ß---------------------à

He had been just on the verge of heading for home, his quick circuit of the park finished in minutes, when a flash of green caught the edges of his peripheral vision.

He whipped his head to the left, only to see the last vestiges of jade flames die down in a thick copse of trees.

He stared for a moment. Then, he heaved a deep sigh and set himself to investigate.

"God_**dammit**_!"

Of course. The one time a year he thinks of shirking his duty, and something like this happened. God hated him, and that's all there was to it.

With a graceful swing, he dove down into the park, darting from tree branch to tree branch to avoid startling the evening joggers.

If this was another alien, an invasion of the mole men, or just a general 'world domination' scheme, he was going to retire. He meant it this time. The previous twenty-eight oaths of retirement were now null and void.

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Okay, True Believers. I need your help. Was Spidey up to snuff? Was this chapter just a waste of time? Should I quit while I'm ahead?

**Let me know. **

**Your Friendly Neighborhood Xenocide**


	3. Stranger in a Strange Land part 1

**_Crimson Hand_  
A Xenocide Production**

**AN: Greetings, True Believers. As some of you know, I recently released Ch. 7 of _Dead On Arrival_. Wow, what a mistake that was. I had forced myself to finish it, and it showed none of the promise or the quality that I've tried to bring you guys. So, in shame after a particularly scathing, but correct, review, I took it down to be extensively reworked. This chapter was written in apology, and in the hopes that I haven't lost my touch.**

**For those of you reading this at TFF, these are my notes, so disregard them or read them as you like. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, as always.**

**Also, "--hkjhkl--" is meant to portray Japanese**

**Enjoy and review…………please?**

**Summary: More often than not, a hero's most epic battle is the one you never see. It's the battle that goes on within him or herself. Not all of these battles are won. But neither are they all lost.**

**Disclaimer: I own neither Marvel nor Naruto. I would sell my first born child to any who give me either one. Any takers?  
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**Chapter Three: Stranger In A Strange Land pt 1**

_Why does this crap always happen to me?_

Our costumed red and blue hero was perching cautiously on a branch, deep in the shadows and hidden from the evening sunlight. He was peering down through the foliage at a boy that couldn't be any older than sixteen or seventeen. He had a decidedly oriental cast about him, though blonde hair was most unusual for anyone from the east.

A quick glance told the older man that the boy was indeed a natural blonde. A quirky gene from the primordial pool, perhaps?

Though a blonde Asian is indeed a quandary, it was, unfortunately for our hero, not very high on his priority list. Naked people don't just appear from thin air in the middle of New York City for no good reason. Because he'd let his sense of moral fortitude get the better of him, as he had let it many, many, many times before, it was his duty as a superhero to investigate any and all strange occurrences in his territory. He was quite tempted to just pass the green flash of light as a trick of the mind, but in his experience, leaving the multiple strange happenings in New York to themselves tended to end badly.

As in 'city wide collateral damage' type badly.

He didn't begrudge serving the people. That's what he lived for. But really, was it too much to ask for to not have a universal crisis every month? Just once, he'd like to have an entire week of nothing but mundane bank robberies and a few jaywalkers. As much as it depressed him to admit it, that prospect did not seem likely at all.

_Sheesh. Hey, can't somebody get this kid a fig leaf?_

He leapt down gracefully from his perch and landed with a soft thump on the forest floor, crushing moist leaves and grinding twigs into the dirt underfoot. He crouched down next to the boy and began to take his pulse.

Central Park was a prime camping ground for the homeless. In the winter, they moved to the underpasses, the alleys, and the charity houses. But in the summer and late spring, spots in the forest went fast. It was almost like a community, and the cops didn't have the heart to run them completely out of their "homes".

And for some reason, the little grove behind the duck pond seems to have become the unofficial meeting place for the Swinger's Club. He tried to avoid that place as much as possible. The last time he had to break up a riot there still caused him to shudder in disgust. Aunt May would have died of mortification had she learned of the place, and MJ would castrate him, just to be on the safe side.

The boy on the ground, however, was no mere bum or vagabond, as he had been hoping. Instead, he was naked and unconscious.

**S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Unofficial Hero's Handbook #312A[Mysterious Strangers: All mysterious unconscious and/or coma induced persons/beings found in even more mysterious circumstances are big trouble. Hang up your capes, shrinkwrap your spandex, and put away the make-up case. Mysterious Strangers usually herald the End of the World or the Death Spiral of the Universe. You're screwed.**

The boy's pulse was steady, if a bit faint. His color was good, and he seemed to be having no trouble breathing.

Spiderman rocked back on his heels, studying the boy intently. A perfectly healthy, normal human being was lying naked and unconscious in Central Park. Stranger things have happened. He knew this all too well, to his chagrin.

He plopped his chin into his hand, resting his elbow on his knee.

Now…..what to do?

If it were any other ordinary citizen, he would merely take them to the hospital and let the good docs over at NYSH sort him out and take care of all the paperwork. But, he also had to take into account that mysterious flash of green light. He couldn't very well drop a harbringer of doom or a possible enemy in the middle of an emergency room.

But, where else could he take him? Back home was out of the question. Secret identities aside, there was just no way that he could find room for a fourth person, even if it was only temporary.

He sighed.

What to do, what to do?

_Wait a sec………Parker, you're an idiot!_

He smacked his forehead in exasperation.

"Duh!" He shook his head exasperatedly. "Avenger HQ would be perfect!"

He stood up. "Man, Spidey, you've been a loner for far too long. You keep forgetting that you've moved up in the world."

He bent down to take ahold of the young man and sling him across his own shoulders. Avenger HQ would be best equipped to deal with the boy.

Whether he was a threat or not.

Problem solved, crisis averted, and now all he had to do was find a way to keep Pym from cornering him and attempting to convince him to write down that damn Chaos Recombinant equation.

"Come on, kid. I've got a nice, long, boring evening ahead of me at home and I'm looking forwards to it."

A hero's work is never done. And nothing ever seems to go right. At least, not for very long. New York's wall crawler knew that particular law of physics all too well. He was about to be painfully reminded of it, and in the worst possible way.

He reached down and grabbed the blonde's shoulder. And that's when all hell broke loose.

The boy's eyes snapped open.

Spiderman froze in shock. The boy should have been out cold! And why the hell didn't he wake up when his pulse was taken!?

The boy's pupils were unfocused, but when they passed over the masked hero, they gradually refocused. First was confusion, then puzzlement. When he took in the older man's appearance, fear ghosted across his face. When the boy realized that he was naked, he snapped like a taunt wire.

With a hoarse shout of --You fucker! Where the hell are my clothes!?--, the blonde boy grabbed a completely surprised Spiderman by the forearms, who was shocked that his Spider-sense hadn't given him an inkling of danger, planted a stone foot in the hero's stomach, and proceeded to somersault him directly into a tree trunk behind him. The spandex clad crusader attempted to twist out of the way, but unprepared as he was, he crashed sideways into the trunk of a tree, a glancing blow that blew the breath out of his lungs ever so slightly, and most likely bruised his ribs.

The boy leapt to his feet, and quickly scuttled to the other side of the small clearing, covering his private parts and glaring suspiciously at the older man opposite of him.

--Where the fuck are my clothes, dammit!?--

Spiderman drew a shaky breath, and picked himself up from the forest floor.

_What the hell is going on!? That toss felt like something Rhino is capable of!_

He stood up slowly as possible in order not to aggravate the already frantic boy any further. He held his hands up slowly, trying to demonstrate that he meant no harm to the kid. The last thing he wanted was a fight with a scared little kid with the apparent strength of one of his strongest foes and the ability to outsmart his Spider Sense.

"Hey, calm down, kid. You look like you've taken a bad fall. I was just going to take you somewhere where you could—"

The blonde youth scowled in confusion, his head tilting to the side and his ears almost _twitching _in befuddlement. The three whisker marks on either side of the boy's face only helped to serve the illusion of a slightly bestial appearance.

--I can't understand you! Why can't you talk like a normal person!?-- The boy's eyes narrowed in further suspicion as he took in the appearance of the stranger. The man in spandex was a ridiculous sight. --Why are you dressed like that and why am I naked? Are you a pervert or something?--

Spiderman grimaced.

_Just great. 'Course the kid wouldn't speak English. I think that's Japanese, though I'm not 100 sure. I totally bombed Spanish in high school and what little Japanese I know is what every damn tourist in Tokyo knows._

He assessed the situation, noting the boy's flushed face and dilated pupils.

_The poor kid is scared shitless. Maybe if I talk to him a bit and get him to lower his guard, I can get him before he bolts. He sure as hell looks like he could snap at any second._

Indeed, Naruto was breathing heavily, crouched slightly behind a small bush and his eyes never leaving the strange man in front of him. He was disoriented, he was naked, and he was pissed. He jumped slightly when the man's lips moved under the mask and spoke slowly.

"Konn-ichwa." The older man held up a hand in a somewhat friendly greeting. The man's speech was awkward, and something was slightly off in his pronunciation, but Naruto understood him clearly enough. Still, he didn't answer, remaining crouched on the ground and watching the other closely.

_Crap. That's all the Japanese I know._ Spiderman unhappily assessed the situation. _The second I move, he's going to bolt for it. For his sake, and my own, it would be best if I just webbed'em before I drag him to HQ._

The tense silence stretched out between the two.

Cobalt blue eyes bore into eyes covered by cloth.

_I've only got one chance at this. Got to be quick._

The wall crawler was confident that he could nab the frightened lad before the boy could react. While he may have been strong, no way was his speed up to par with the famous Spiderman.

In one fluid motion, the agile web slinger crouched and sprang up into the air, letting fly two strings of webbing even as he vaulted himself up into the braches of the nearest tree.

**FWPT! FWPT!**

The twin strings of webbing flew towards Naruto, and his eyes widened in shock.

A vile epithet tore out of his mouth, Shit, and he threw himself to the side in a controlled roll, causing the webbing to impact on the clump of bushes behind him, coming up to his feet in a smooth manner and instantly darting into the thick confines of the forest, which would eventually lead him to the city streets.

Spiderman could only stare dumbly at the webbed bush.

_How the fu— No one could avoid getting hit at that range!_

He saw the boy roll to the side and take off running into the undergrowth.

"Damn it!" The spandex clad hero spat.

With not a moment to waste, he sprang off into the forest, frantically trying to catch up to the boy before he hurt himself, or worse, someone else.

ß---------------------------à

Leaves flew into his open mouth as he panted harshly, branches dug into his skin as he heedlessly ran through the undergrowth, and his heart was pounding as if it would burst out of chest.

Naruto's thoughts were as frantic and fleeting as his footsteps.

_Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap! I'm naked, a spandex wearin' freak shot white stuff at me— _

and here, something murmured in the back of his mind, something that was almost a memory about a similar man who dressed so, but it was out of his psyche's grasp before he could think to hold on to it.

—_and I have no idea where the hell I am!_

The late evening sunlight streaked through the leaves as he ran. He could hear his pursuer not far behind him, leaping swiftly through the treetops as if he belonged there, and was steadily gaining on the boy.

The evening sunlight filtered through the treetops and flashed into his retinas, burning trails of desperation and fear in them as he fled from his would be captor.

He cursed loudly as he stumbled over a protruding root in the damp ground. Regaining his footing, he pushed himself even faster as he heard the loud _thunks_ of his pursuer leaping from branch to branch in pursuit.

Somehow, the thought that a mere human being could leap gaps of twenty feet in between branches with ease did not bother him in the least. But of course, he was more concerned with keeping ahead of the mysterious man, not pausing to admire his athletic ability.

**FWPT! FWPT! FWP—FWPT!**

A barrage of white filled his field of vision and some strange sort of spitting sounds assaulted his ears as the man chasing him tried to entrap Naruto with ropes and nets of the mysterious substance.

He managed to dodge the first couple of shots, ducking and weaving in an almost graceful motion that he wasn't even aware of, the ones that were aimed directly at his body. But then, the man got smart. He paused, crouched on a branch, and took careful aim.

**FWPT! FWPT!**

The tree crawling freak cut off Naruto's escape to either side of the small clearing he had run into, leaving Naruto no choice but to dash straight forwards between two oak trees, and smack dab in to the middle of the glistening white rope strung out between the trunks in a web-like fashion.

He knew somehow that the white rope would entrap him instantly if it managed to touch him, as he could see by the way it clung to surfaces, but what else could he do? The only thing to do was charge straight ahead and hope for he best. Maybe he could break through!

As he raced towards his imminent capture, his mind raced frantically, seeking any avenue of escape.

_Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit!_

He was almost there, and he could practically feel the smug grin behind the man's mask as it bore into his naked back.

Naruto's eyes scanned the web, and found his salvation in the upper right corner.

A fierce grin spread over his face, and he dashed even faster towards the web.

ß---------------------------à

Spiderman was indeed grinning smugly behind his mask. The boy might have caught the hero off guard and even given him a run for his money for a short while, he was no match in wits for the colorful crusader.

_Trapped like a rat, kid._

He shook his head as he saw the boy speed up. Many a villain and crook had made the mistake of thinking his webbing to be as flimsy as its real life counterpart. They often forgot that in proportion to the spider spinning the web, the webbing was as strong as steel, not an easily snapped string by a giant.

The kid would probably freak out when he found himself unable to escape, much less move, but it was for the best. The streets were just a yard or two through this clearing, and then he'd have a hell of a time trying to catch the speedy brat in the urban jungle.

He made a leisurely leap to the next branch, sure of his success—and nearly planted himself face first into the ground as he saw the boy crouch slightly in mid run, leap smoothly into the air with his arms stretched above his head and his legs snapped together, and neatly escaped his web by sliding through a hole just barely big enough for the boy to fit through.

On the other side of the web, the boy tucked himself into a ball, and when he hit the ground, once again somersaulted forwards to spring to his feet and continue running, losing only a minimal amount of speed.

_Fuck almighty, I hate that kid!_

Regaining his footing, Spiderman sprang in the air frantically over his web, cursing his sloppy work, cursing that damn mysterious kid, and cursing life in general.

**FWPT! FWPT! FWPT! FWPT! FWPT! FWPT!**

He blindly and frantically shot at the boy's back, trying to nail him, but every shot of his missed. Badly.

The boy disappeared into a small copse of trees, making his way to the next clearing, and the deep rumble of New York was on the other side of it.

ß---------------------------à

Naruto was crowing with delight as he raced through the small patch of woods.

He had outsmarted that poofy looking bastard! Now, all that was left to do was lose him, and figure out what the hell to do next.

The outpour of evening sunlight from the trees ahead, and he spurred himself on to greater speeds. He burst out of the treeline, only, instead of feeling dirt beneath his feet, and hard, smooth road ran roughly against his soles.

He stopped instantly and clapped his hands to his ears. Such noise! It was so loud that it pounded into his head and took residence in his skull. Bright lights were flashing by him, large spotlights sprinting by at speeds no animal he had seen ever each.

**HONK! HONK!**

He whipped his head to his left with wide eyes, just in time to see a demon from hell descend upon him, eyes glaringly white, and maw gaping wide open to swallow him whole.

Then, there was darkness.

ß---------------------------à

Spiderman swung himself out of the treeline and onto an overhead lamp pole, arriving just in time to see a red SUV slam into the small body of the boy with a sickening _crunch_ and send him flying twenty feet before coming to a red, wet stop.

Pedestrians screamed and cars squealed to a stop.

His heart stopped, and time seemed to slow to a crawl.

He hadn't been fast enough, and he'd been too cocksure and happy go lucky, as usual.

_Oh, fuck. What have I done?_

* * *

Another tentative chapter added to this experiment in progress. Lend me your thoughts and opinions. 


	4. Stranger in a Strange Land part 2

_Crimson Hand_

_**A Xenocide Production**_

**A/N: Well. Been a long time, hasn't it? Recent fic by a fellow author, Meinos Kein, jumpstarted my interest in this fic. Took me a while to bang it out, but bang it out I did. I'm rather satisfied with the dialogue in this chapter, because I've always felt that dialogue is my one weakness; hence, my tendency to write prose more than having my characters actually speak. There might be a fifth chapter. But don't expect it anytime soon.**

--asdfasgh-- Japanese

**Summary: More often than not, a hero's most epic battle is the one you never see. It's the battle that goes on within him or herself. Not all of these battles are won. But neither are they all lost.** **A crossover with Marvel.**

**Disclaimer: I own neither Marvel nor Naruto. **

**--**

**Chapter Four: Stranger in a Strange Land part 2**

"Mother of God. What happened to this boy?" A soft voice asked, but he couldn't see who spoke, for the blood and the pain had dimmed his eyesight considerably. The gentle hands that cradled his broken body seemed to tighten, and Naruto winced ever so slightly.

"I'll explain later, Richards. Right now, you've got to help him." The hands shifted, and gently laid him down on a hard, cold surface. He wanted to cry aloud from those terribly gentle motions, but the excruciating agony prevented any thought or action.

"Why did you bring him here? Avenger Tower is not a civilian hospital, Spiderman. You should have taken—"

"I'll explain later. All you need to do is get your ass over here and fix him!!"

A sigh. And then, a creak of metal as someone got out of a chair.

A blurry figure stood over him. He tried to open his mouth, but a fresh wave of pain overcame him and all he knew was oblivion.

T-T-T-T-T-T

_Drip. Drip._

_He was standing in a corridor, dank with the smell of sour water and illuminated with the dusky light of twilight._

_This place was familiar, almost seeming to be a part of himself just as much as his own beating heart. Without really knowing how, he knew that this place was himself, and the very floor that he tread was a physical manifestation of his existence._

_A deep rumble rolled through the corridor, causing ripples to form on the surface of numerous puddles and causing a sharp thrill to race up the boy's spine. The very airseemed to inhale, stirring his hair and clothes and pulling him gently in the direction of the crimson glow that crept along the walls. Without really knowing the reason why, only able to unresistingly heed the call of—_

_CRIMSON_

_—he began to make his way down the hallway of stone, trailing his fingers across the rough surface of the walls and absentmindedly testing the texture of the dampness there. As he continued on, the crimson glow grew stronger and seemed to beat in time with his own mortal heart, eager to consume him and ensnare the very recesses of his soul._

_Suddenly, there was a door in front of him, with a simple doorknob and lock adorning it._

_The—_

_CRIMSON_

_—seethed from the cracks, oozed from the lock, and beckoned him to open the door._

_With nary a thought, he reached out to turn the knob. Only an inch, and the truth that was behind this door would be set free, and in turn, set him free as well.__  
__Only, what the boy didn't know was that freedom for the thing behind the door meant utter ruination for the boy opening it._

_**"Stop."**_

_It was only a word, so softly spoken that it drowned out the crimson and silenced it the roar of a whisper. So filled with power was that word that the boy froze instantly, free of the seductive spell that had been woven about him.__  
__He dropped his hand to his side and turned to face the origin of the voice._

_"I know you." The boy spoke simply._

_**"So you should."**__The voice was ever so slightly tinged wit amusement. Green balefire flickered.__**"I am now as much a part of you as what lies behind that door."**_

_The boy considered this, then shrugged nonchalantly. It was what he had agreed to, after all. "What's up with this door? It…doesn't feel right—like it doesn't belong."_

_**"What lies behind this door are your remaining memories before you cast off your mortal shell in your previous life. They are forbidden to you, as they are to every mortal who passes."**_

_"And the—" But he's cut off by the steel in the other's voice._

_**"That need not concern you. What lies behind that door is dead to you, and it will remain so. You have your name, and you have me. That will be enough for you to serve me."**_

_As if in response to the cloaked figure's words, the door seemed to pulse in amusement, and crimson trails flickered hungrily from the cracks._

_The boy quailed slightly under the cold glare and harsh words. He nodded in silent assent._

_**"Good. When you recover, you will go see a man called Strange. He is a powerful being of magic, and he is sensitive enough to know that something is terribly wrong with the balance of things."**_

_The green flickered once more and began to fade._

_**"Seek him out and learn what he knows. I suspect that he already has an idea of what is to be done."**_

_With that simple command, the green fire faded, and the boy was left alone with the Door and the crimson. He turned to face it._

_After a moment's hesitation, he knelt down to peek cautiously through the keyhole._

_There was only darkness. He strained to see beyond it, but his efforts were to no avail. The crimson still seethed under the cracks, but there was nothing to be seen._

_Suddenly, an Eye appeared, and it fixed its gaze upon him with terrible intent._

_The boy froze as he gazed into the sight of boundless malice, cruelty without__  
__measure, and the deep amusement of a god as looked upon an insect._

_It spoke._

_**"PUNY MORTAL. I WILL HAVE YOU, ONE WAY OR ANOTHER. AND YOU WILL KNOW FEAR AND PAIN AS IT HAS NEVER BEFORE BEEN KNOWN."**_

_There no malice, no threats in the words. There was only a deep sense of truth, as if it were relating some trivial fact that was true no matter how one spoke it._

_The crimson would claim him and there would be no escape from its clutches._

T-T-T-T-T-T

The white glare of the computer screen glinted off Reed Richard's glasses and bathed his face in a soft glow. He was muttering under his breath and frantically typing strings of diagnostic equations into the Medlab's database. As was routine medical procedure, he had drawn a vial of blood from the boy to check for any allergies to medication or viral contagions that may have lain dormant in him. The boy had been on the brink of death, his body broken so badly that he could hear the grinding and soft crackling of shattered bones as Spiderman had lain him ever so gently onto the examination table.

But then, a miraculous, astounding thing began to happen.

As soon as Reed withdrew the needle from the crook of the boy's arm, there was a soft sizzling sound, and the small hole closed up entirely, leaving his skin undamaged and with no trace of a needle mark. As if that were a hidden cue, the rest of the boy's body began to follow suit. First, the bones began knitting together; some even forcibly retracted back under the skin and jammed together for the healing process to begin. His lower vertebrae snapped together with a sharp crack, sounding as if someone had simply snapped him back together as one would button up a coat. The muscles were next, viscous fluid raced to cover the few exposed portions of human flesh, leaving it glistening and pure as the day he had been born. But what was most fascinating was the skin. The skin was pulled together by invisible hands and closed with soft hisses from bottom to top leaving small bits of steam or smoke that dissipated instantly. Within approximately 5 minutes and 33 seconds, the strange boy went from looking like roadkill to looking as if he had never suffered a hard knock in his life.

Reed stood there frozen, needle in hand, mouth slightly agape and Spiderman was so startled that he was speechless.

"Uh…Richards?"

But of course that didn't last long.

Before the wallcrawler could articulate his query, the stretchiest of the Fantastic Four was storming into the Medlab's research station, adjacent to the actual examination room, vial in hand and a determined expression on his face. "I'm way ahead of you, Spiderman. Keep an eye on our guest while I run a few tests."

He fumbled around the desk for one of his many mini-disks that he kept at Avenger Tower. It was a matter of security that he didn't take Tony up on his offer to link up the server at the Four Freedoms Plaza and the one at Avenger HQ, but he always preferred his own software. It's not that he didn't trust Tony Stark's own programming, but he was far more familiar and comfortable with his own design. Admittedly, it was also out of a desire to test his new DNA analysis program. Reed was first and foremost a scientist. If he could find an excuse to utilize every single thing he had created, you can be sure he'd do so. Ben Grimm had once had the misfortune to be the guinea pig for Reed's newest version of the fake skin topical applicant. Unfortunately, the latest compounds had a tendency to constrict very tightly after setting…

Reed was jolted out of his reverie by a smooth, impersonal voice emanating from the computer in front of him.

"_What can I do for you, Dr. Richards?"_

Typing with one hand and staring engrossed at the screen with another, his right arm stretched across the room to place the vial of the boy's blood in a grooved slot between two slowly rotating scanners.

"Hello, IRMA. I need a cross-section scan of the DNA I just placed in the analyzer. Look for any anomalies or inconsistencies when compared with normal human DNA." Reed powered up the machine and the vial began to rotate slowly in between the two scanners.

"_Acknowledged. Will a routine examination suffice?"_

Reed hesitated. Then went on. "Actually, include a scan for the X gene or any variation of it."

"_Acknowledged. Scan commencing."_

The soft whir of the scanners signaled an intense scrutiny of the blood sample he'd taken.

"You think he's a mutant, Dr. Richards?" Spiderman's voice floated from the doorway where he stood leaning nonchalantly against the frame. Reed swiveled the chair around to face his comrade. "I gotta admit, that healing factor is something else. Not to mention that his reflexes and strength are definitely above your average human's."

"There's a very high probability that he is. I believe that his healing factor is far too similar to that of Wolverine to be a mere coincidence." Reed stroked his chin absentmindedly, lost in thought.

Spiderman cocked his head. "Contrary to popular belief, the grumpy old man doesn't possess the only healing factor in the world. I mean, look at Cap for instance. I've seen his body shrug off blows that would have put me in some serious traction."

Reed nodded in assent. "That's true, but it never hurts to be sure. If the boy is indeed a mutant, I dare say that Ms. Frost and Mr. Summers will be eager to learn of him. Mutants are very much an endangered species these days."

There was a soft chirping noise followed by an equally bland announcement—_"Scan complete."—_and the results of the analysis displayed themselves in all their pixilated glory on the screen. Reed began poring over the words, murmuring softly to himself from time to time, while Spiderman strolled over and began to read himself over his friend's shoulder.

For a short time, both forgot the existence of a small boy who was not quite as dead to the world as they had supposed.

T-T-T-T-T-T

I'm the best at what I do, but what I do isn't very nice.

The smell of gasoline, mixed in with oppressive smog and tangy summer scent, makes for a very interesting jumble that assaults my nostrils. The crush of humanity that flows to either side of me on the sidewalk doesn't give me a second glance, either too caught up in their own lives to care or somehow instinctively recognizing me as something to be avoided. And I wouldn't blame them if they did.

I'm a natural predator, the kind you find in a jungle of concrete and spun glass, not jungle shrubbery and dank forests. I gotta admit, there's a challenge and a sort of appeal to be at the top of the food chain in a city. Cause that's just it—you never know when you'll walk around a corner and run smack dab into something bigger, meaner, and nastier than you who's all too willing to take your place at the very top of the pyramid.

I live for that kind of thing. It's what I was made to be, to do. And over the years, I've come to enjoy it, to revel in the exhilarating feeling of combat. You're not really alive unless you're fighting for your life. I'd tried the pursuing peace thing once or twice. It never turned out too well.

I can say with truth, and no small amount of arrogance, that I can count on one hand, maybe two, the people in the world that can kill me. If I'm not immortal, then I'm something pretty damn close to it. I've been disemboweled, dismembered, beheaded, shot, stabbed, poisoned, crushed, burnt, melted, drowned, and even lobotomized. But I still didn't die. Some days, on those dark, self-reflective days, I think of it as a curse, something to rail and rant at God for. I never asked for power and yet I was given it. Or maybe I had asked, and found the taste of it bitter to me. On others, I feel that perhaps there was I reason I'm like this. If you believe what the Preach tells you, God has a plan for everyone, and not just the good folk, but the baddies too. Personally, I've never been religious. God and I get along just fine so long as He keeps His nose out of my affairs. I only believe in what I can rip apart and what I can't.

I'm in town on business. Personal business, actually.

I'm affiliated with a number of teams, groups, and organizations, some less glamorous than others. Whenever I happen to be in the general vicinity of the nearest HQ, I try to make a point of stopping by to keep myself abreast with current affairs. It's a personal rule I've made for myself, though more often than not, I break it. I'm stopping by Avengers Headquarters only because I've neglected to stick my head in the last 3 times I've been in New York. I'll shake a few hands, ask Mr. Fantastic how his wife and children are doing (if he's not holed up in his own lab at the Four Freedoms Plaza), and maybe get to glare at Webhead a bit. The kid has always been too fond of jokes, if you ask me. It's unprofessional and one of these days it'll come back and take a big chunk out his ass. After the usual pleasantries, I'll be off to a particular little bar on the lower side of Manhattan, where I'll be paying an acquaintance of mine a visit. Things have been feeling…off these days. I can't really put it into words, but it's like that feeling you get right before you step into the trap and the steel teeth bite raggedly into your leg. This acquaintance of mine has always been unusually good at sensing the mood of things. The underworld usually gets wind of bad things long before anyone else does, probably because most of the time the underworld and its inhabitants are the originators of it. He's a character, but I trust what he tells me.

Until the day he lies. Then he and I will have a little…talk. A fatal talk and certainly not fatal to me.

I make my way across the paved courtyard, where a few of Stark's employees are loitering about on lunch or impromptu meetings. Tony has always had a flair for the dramatic, and the large fountain cast in his company's logo shows it. People are used to seeing strangers come and go at all hours of the day. Usually, they don't take the front door like I tend to do, but it happens often enough for people to be comfortable with it.

The automatic doors slide open with a small hiss as I approach them.

As I step over the threshold, two armed security guards nod slightly at me. They were mostly for decoration, though I doubt any non-super powered human would think so. I nod back. Professional courtesy and all that.

I stride up to a large desk, where a small, mousy looking girl resided. Her long, beautiful hair was tied back in a simple ponytail and though her attire was professional it also exuded an aura of confidence and spoke loudly of her feminine charms. Her name tag read "Sophia" in blocky, impersonal text. She looked up from her paperwork.

"Hello, Mr. Logan. It's been some time."

I shrug and give her my most roguish grin. "Really? I hadn't noticed." Sophia was beautiful when she smiled, but she only had eyes for one of the slender guards who always seemed to conveniently be on the same shift as her. It was a shame, really.

She studied me for a moment, tapped a few buttons on her console, and then went back to her paperwork without word or glance. I scowled, a little annoyed. I'm not in the habit of womanizing, but I enjoy flirting every now and then. To be outright ignored was very irritating. But…another time.

I picked up my security clearance card, which was protruding from a small slot on the desk, and made my way to the elevators.

Avengers, assemble.

T-T-T-T-T-T

"I'm no slouch when it comes to genetics, but maybe you'd better explain what I'm seeing here." Spiderman was certainly a capable scientist as Peter Parker. One might go so far as to put him a step or so below Reed Richards himself, who is arguably the greatest scientific mind of his time, setting aside other great intellectuals such as Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. Unfortunately, being Spiderman had left him little time to apply himself to his studies as he would have liked to. Oh, he could read DNA diagnostics as well as the next man, but his knowledge was distinctly lacking in some areas.

Mr. Fantastic was seemingly perplexed as well. Half of what was on the display screen seemed to be contradicting itself! "I'm a bit confused myself. Maybe there's a glitch in the program?" He muttered nonsensically, tapping a few keys which showed no discernable effect on the information displayed. "IRMA? Run a self-diagnostics routine, please. Take careful note of any irregularities in your programming."

"_Acknowledged. Executing internal scan."_

IRMA (Internal Retrovirus Mapping Application), Reed's new pet AI for all things medical, was extremely impersonal, which Spiderman thought odd. Even Tony's AI had a bit of spunk to it. Reed had always gone for the more quirky personalities. Perhaps it was because IRMA was so new that it hadn't had time to form a personality, much less a gender. A few moments later, IRMA warbled a negative search result. Reed was talking animatedly with IRMA, posing questions and dissecting the analysis it had just performed.

The webslinger sighed in slight annoyance. He respected Reed Richards as a scientist and a fellow crimefighter, but did he have to be so absentminded as to forget that other people were actually in the room with him? "Reed," he reminded the man gently, "what were the results of the scan?"

Reed swiveled his head behind him, seemingly surprised to see someone else there. "Oh. Yes. The scans—ah, let's see. Nothing overtly out of the ordinary, when taking it in at first glance. He has all the necessary requirements to be categorized as human." Spiderman wasn't sure if he was joking or completely serious. It was hard to tell, sometimes. "But there is where anything 'ordinary' ends. Take a look at his cell regeneration rate." Reed highlighted a string of text and Spiderman leaned in to take a closer look.

A beat.

"Holy crap! Is this for real?"

Reed nodded in the affirmative. "Indeed it is. Apparently, his healing factor doesn't just activate when he is injured. It's constantly working in the background, preventing cellular decay."

Spidey shook his head in amazement. "So what, he's immortal?"

"No, no." Reed waved that off impatiently. "Not immortal. Merely extremely long lived. I wouldn't hesitate to estimate his longevity at several centuries."

"What's the extent of his regeneration abilities?"

Reed leaned back in his office chair, looking thoughtful. "Without more precise testing, I can't be entirely sure. I don't believe that he can regenerate a limb. Perhaps if said limb were reattached to his body, but from scratch? No, I think not. As it is, nothing short of cutting off his head and burying it would kill him. So long as something fully resembling a body remains, he will eventually be able to regenerate it."

Spiderman crossed his arms across his chest. "I'm having a hard time believing this kid isn't a mutant already. I take it he has the X-gene?"

Reed's response was surprising. "No. Not a trace of it to be found. However, his mitochondria possess some very intriguing qualities. IRMA?"

The AI brought up two schematics: the cell of a normal human and that of their patient's.

The image on the left glowed softly, pulsing with a neon green glow Reed tapped the screen and IRMA zoomed in on the cell, highlighting small, block-like figures. "This is a normal human being's mitochondria. If you'll recall, the mitochondria is what powers the cell, processing and distributing energy throughout the cell so it may perform its basic functions. Call it the battery, if you will." A small animation showed what Spiderman presumed to be energy for the cell being passed through the tiny figures in a small, manageable stream The image zoomed out, displaying the two cells once again, then focused on the cell on the right. "Now, this is the boy's mitochondria."

Spiderman blinked behind the confines of his mask. The kid's mitochondria had practically taken over half of the cell! While there was a small trickle of energy still being processed, a large bulk of the energy was being stored in the cell. "That's impossible! Mitochondria aren't designed to store that much energy or to be that large. He _should_ be suffering catastrophic cellular damage!"

Reed nodded emphatically. "Now you see my problem? In all respects, he's human and not a mutant, yet I can't see how his basic cellular structure could be so twisted without some sign of tampering or genetic mutation. But according to the test results, it's as if he's been born like this. Contradictory."

Spiderman sighed and scratched the back of his head. "Could it be his healing factor that's keeping his cells from breaking down completely?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if that's the case. However, it would take me a least a week of intensive testing to determine if that's so." Reed stretched his arm across the room and gently lifted the vial of blood out of the groove it rested in. He then reached into the cabinet behind the scanner, producing a small storage container for _biohazardous_ materials. "In the meantime, I'll keep this in a safe place. Perhaps Tony or Pym can shed some light on this mystery."

Spiderman suddenly pounded his fist into his palm with exaggerated excitement. "I've got it! I know exactly what's wrong with this kid!" It was painfully obvious that Spiderman was attempting to pull one over Reed Richards. Well, painfully obvious except to our blue spandex clad hero.

Reed jumped out of his chair hastily, fumbling with the container and a tangible eagerness shining from his face. He really did love solving unexplained mysteries, even if it weren't he who had done the solving. Sometimes, he was far too childish for his own good. "Excellent! I was afraid I'd have to spend several weeks in my lab to unravel the problem. Not that I'd mind, you understand, but Sue gets extremely grouchy whenever I hole myself up like that. She equates it to an ostrich burying its head into the sand, but that analogy is really quite inadequate. A much better one would be— "

"Reed." Spiderman spoke loudly and firmly. It was best that he head off this rant before Reed could build steam. The last time he'd been too nice to cut Mr. Fantastic off, he'd been forced to endure a four hour lecture on the hierarchical structure of honey bees versus ants.

Reed jumped in surprise, blinking rapidly, much like a small, dazed bird who'd run smack dab into a clear window. "Oh. Yes, sorry. What were you saying?"

Spiderman sighed in mock defeat. "You ruined a perfectly good Energizer Bunny joke, Richards. You just keep going, and going, and going."

Reed stood in thoughtful silence for a moment, then a satisfied smile bloomed across his face. "Aha! I've grasped the nature of the joke! You were referring to our guest's mitochondria, which seems to be acting in the nature of an over-powered battery. Thus, drawing from an entertaining American cultural reference, you made an amusing anecdote comparing our guest to a mascot for a prominent battery producer!"

The masked jokester shook his head. "You really know how to suck the fun out of a joke, don't you Reed?"

"Johnny tells me that all the time, and I still have no idea why having a thorough understanding of a joke detracts from its effectiveness."

Spiderman just patted Reed on the shoulder. "I have a newfound respect for your wife. She must be _very_ patient."

T-T-T-T-T-T

Naruto swam to wakefulness through a haze of dizziness and flashing lights.

He opened his eyes and they came to rest on an unfamiliar ceiling.

He blinked once, twice, and the blurriness disappeared from his sight.

He shifted his body slightly, noting that although he was weak, he was fast recovering his strength. His memory of the last hour or so was hazy. There was a desperate race through a small wood with an enemy, and a successful escape from the enemy's clutches. Though freedom was within his grasp, it was suddenly snatched from him in the assault of a large, shiny beast on the black road.

Voices drifted in from his left and Naruto slowly tilted his head to catch a glimpse of his captor in red and blue, and yet another oddly clad man in what seemed to be a jumpsuit of darker blue.

They were distracted, talking animatedly in soft tones in a language he'd never heard before. He chanced another shift of his body and found that he could move near to normally.

_Be silent. Be quick. There's a time for being loud and brash, but one day your life may depend on being quiet and fleet of foot._

It was something that had been drilled into his head long ago, by a teacher that had neither a name nor a face, only a voice. But Naruto couldn't be bothered to reflect on this. There was only now, and escape. He would listen to the voice, only because it gave such sensible advice.

He sat up, only marginally surprised to see himself clothed with orange skin-tight shorts. He slipped off the cold, hard table with and stood up with only a slight buckling of his knees. Cold radiated from the sterile tiles up through the soles of his feet to the base of his spine, eliciting a shiver. He glanced through the doorway. Good. They were still distracted. Crouching slightly, he softly padded across the room to the only other doorway, presumably the exit. He reached out to push it open, only to jump slightly when it opened horizontally on its own with a soft hiss.

Not letting surprise get the better of him, he went through the doorway. A few steps behind him, the door hissed closed just as softly as it had opened. He was in a small hallway, with a set of metal doors at the end. He began to make his way down the hallway, heart pulsing rapidly in his throat. He was nearly there—nearly free!

Shouts broke out behind him, muffled faintly by the thick door, but there was no mistake of the meaning behind them.

Without a backwards glance, Naruto sped to the doors, halting in front of them, expecting to be granted passage with ease. He reached out as he had with the other door. There was no response. Desperate, he beat on the unyielding doors.

--Open up, goddammit!--

White light spilled out from the doorway behind him and Naruto whirled to see the enemy, the masked man standing behind the middle aged one.

The older man raised his hand up slowly and uttered something in a soft, soothing tone. Naruto wasn't fooled. Only the dumbest of people would fall for something so obvious.

There was a soft ding behind him, but he didn't dare take his eyes from the two men in front of him who were advancing slowly. He bared his teeth in a show of defiance, slipped into a fighting stance that felt comfortingly familiar, and backed up against the door. Cold metal at his back and enemies to his front.

He been in worse situations, surely.

Suddenly, the doors opened behind him and he lost his footing, stumbling back into a wall of musky clothing and hardened muscle.

There was a loud _snikt_, and three blades tickled his throat. "Well now, who went and started the party without me?"

Naruto swallowed. He was fucked.

--

**Ain't I a stinker? If you've got criticism, offer it.**


	5. Stranger in a Strange Land part 3

_**Crimson Hand**_**  
A Xenocide Production  
**

**A/N: Wow. I didn't really think I'd be motivated enough to write Ch5. this soon. Even though I don't have a great many reviews, the few I've received have given me enough of an ego boost to try my hand again.**

**~asdfasgh~ = Japanese (I'm trying out a new format. The -- just got annoying after a while. )**

**Summary: More often than not, a hero's most epic battle is the one you never see. It's the battle that goes on within him or herself. Not all of these battles are won. But neither are they all lost. A crossover with Marvel.**

**Disclaimer: I own neither Marvel nor Naruto. **

--

**Stanger in a Strange Land part 3**

**--**

Naruto was seated in a cushy office chair, given socks and a somewhat loose t-shirt. His arms were folded across his chest and he was glaring at his captors fiercely.

Logan was leaning nonchalantly against one of the examination tables, mirroring the boy's pose, minus the glare. Spiderman was seated comfortably on the wall, his chin resting in his hand. Reed was seated in another chair across from the boy; not so close as to alarm him but not too far away to restrain him if the need arose.

Logan was the first to speak in the midst of the tense silence. "So when are the Avengers in the business of taking in every stray weirdo they come across?"

"I didn't really have much of a choice," Spiderman said. "Considering how I found him, I don't think it would have been wise to simply dump him in the ER."

"Not to mention the fact that this boy nearly managed to give him the slip," Reed added, still eyeing the boy with caution.

"Nearly?"

"Well, if he hadn't been struck head on by a car and broken almost every bone in his body, I'd say that he would have had no trouble hiding in the city." Spiderman ducked his head in shame at Reed's words, though neither man took notice of it.

Logan raised a bushy eyebrow and glanced at the boy. "He doesn't look like he just walked away from a hit and run. You're not pullin' my leg, are you?"

"We both saw him after the crash. I hauled him here in about 15 minutes. Before we could so much as put a band aid on him, he completely healed himself in five minutes flat," Spiderman explained.

Logan was silent. Advanced healing factors like his own were extremely rare and it piqued his interest to learn that a small boy seemed to possess the same capabilities as he. It also aroused his suspicion. There had been numerous attempts by various organizations and governments to duplicate him, the so-called perfect weapon. There had been far more failures than successes, but the few experiments that had succeeded were deadly. He found it far too coincidental that this boy would suddenly, literally, appear out of nowhere just as he arrived in New York.

He grunted and then nodded his head at the boy. "You tried talking to him yet? Find out where he came from?"

Spiderman shrugged helplessly. "He speaks Japanese. Or at least, I think that's what it is. It could be Mandarin for all I know."

"He hasn't said a word since he's been brought here," Mr. Fantastic noted. He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. "All he's done is sit and glare, quite frankly."

Logan pushed away from the bed and approached the boy, who refused to shrink away from the intimidating aura the X-Man constantly radiated, though his clear blue eyes shone with wariness. Logan chuckled inwardly in amusement.

_Old enough to have some backbone, yet young enough to lack some sense. Reminds me of me at his age._

~_So tell me, kid. What's your name?_~

The boy's eyes widened in surprise and his lips parted softly. His eyes darted to Spiderman and Reed Richards in rapid succession then back to Logan, obviously bewildered. Logan sighed in annoyance.

~_They don't speak your language. I picked it up a while ago and it's come in handy a time or two._~ He scratched his chin nonchalantly. ~_Lucky for you I happened to stop by. You probably would have been tossed in a holding cell till they got a translator up here.~_

Naruto, still cautious, spoke slowly. ~_I haven't done anything wrong. Why am I being kept here?_~

~_Security reasons, kid._~ Logan pointed a thumb in Spiderman's direction. ~_From what Webhead tells me, you appeared in thin air in the middle of Central Park without a stitch of clothing on. You're going to tell me you would have let someone who appeared like that on your turf go on their merry way without asking a few questions?_~

Naruto nodded reluctantly. He didn't like it, but it made sense. All he had to do was lie through his teeth, they'd let him go, and he'd be free to track down this Strange guy the Spectre had mentioned…whoever he was. The last thing he wanted to do was attract attention to himself. It would be best if he could just up and be on his way.

~_Well? You got a name or what?_~ Logan scowled impatiently.

Naruto nodded inwardly. Time to get this over with as quickly as possible. ~_Yeah, old man. I got a name. It's Uzumaki Naruto. What about you?_~

~_Old man, huh? I guess compared to a brat like you, I really am an old man. Name's Logan._~ He pointed at Spiderman, then at Reed Richards. ~_The guy that hauled you in is Spiderman. The other one, the absent-minded professor, is Reed Richards._~

Naruto looked at the two appraisingly and Spiderman waved slightly at the mention of his name. Naruto just ignored him. ~_What's with the costumes and weird names?_~

Logan stared at the boy in surprise. _Everyone_ knew who Spiderman and Reed Richards were. You'd have to have been living under a rock for the last couple of decades to not know who they were. It was almost as if he'd never seen or heard of a superhero before, much less two of the biggest names in the business.

~_In the superhero business, it's not exactly a good idea to run around with your real name and face on display to the world. Unless you're good enough to not worry about it in the first place, like Reed here._~ Logan gauged the boy's reaction. Confusion was rampant on the boy's expression.

~_Umm…what's a superhero?_~ Naruto's expression was certainly sincere, but it was hard for Logan to grasp the idea that the boy simply had no comprehension of what the world had taken for granted for five decades or so.

~_You're not from around here, are you?_~

~_I_— ~ Naruto opened his mouth to speak…and discovered that he was drawing a blank. He searched the recesses of his memory for someplace, any place that he could claim as home and get his interrogators to swallow it. But there was nothing. Nothing except green light in the empty spaces of his memory. ~_I can't remember._~

Logan narrowed his eyes. The boy wasn't lying as far as he could tell. He'd been trained to catch the most minute of signs that a person was lying; a shift of the eyes, a rise in heart rate, even the scent of apprehension. No, the boy—Naruto—was simply very confused and lost.

~_What's your birthday? How old are you? Who were your parents? What's the last thing you can remember?_~

The flood of rapid questions floored Naruto, confusing him even further. ~_I—I… can't remember. I just don't know!_~ Naruto was slowly coming to grips with the fact that whoever—whatever—he had agreed to serve had left him with the mere basics of who he was. All he had was the clothing he wore, his name, and the disembodied voices that sometimes gave good advice.

"Well, Logan?" Reed prompted.

Logan turned to address his colleagues. "Here's what we've got so far: his name's Naruto Uzumaki, he's Japanese from what I can tell, and he appeared out of thin air with no memories whatsoever of this world or his past. He has a healing factor that's probably damn near close to mine and his speed and strength is enough to put him on par with Webhead."

A heartbeat.

"Just your normal, everyday scenario, right?" Spiderman quipped brightly. "No day would be complete without some seriously weird shit happening in New York."

T-T-T-T-T-T

"The kid ain't a mutant?" Logan asked quietly. He and Reed were talking in the research room adjacent to the Medlab, both in view of Naruto and Spiderman who were still in their original places.

"Not according to the data I have. His cell show some interesting characteristics, but he most certainly does not have the X-gene."

Logan glanced at the boy, who was gazing blankly at a spot just directly over Spiderman's head. "I don't like this, Reed. Not one bit. Stranger things have happened, I know, but this is just plain odd." He met Reed's eyes, frowning. "A blonde, blue-eyed Asian gets dumped in New York, either of his own free will or against it, with no clothes, no memories of his own, and it just so happens to be that Webhead was patrolling that area and brought him here, and that I happened to stop by Avenger Tower on a random check in."

Reed sighed lightly. "You've more a right than most to be paranoid—"

"Usually because I'm right all the goddamn time," Logan grumbled under his breath.

"—but this is nothing more than coincidence. A strange occurrence, to be sure, but nothing more than that. I'm rather glad that Spiderman brought him by. Can you imagine what would have happened to the poor boy if he had gotten loose in the city? Although…" Reed trailed off thoughtfully.

"Don't leave me hanging, bub. You know how much I hate that."

"It just doesn't seem feasible for the boy to have such a devastating case of amnesia concerning his origins, current world events, and basic geography, only being able to remember his name." Reek shook his head in a manner indicating his perplexment. "It's too fantastic."

"My money's on brainwashing gone wrong," the X-Man said darkly. "Either that or some psychic has fried the kid's brain. Memories aside, I still want to know why the hell he was dumped on our doorstep!"

"That is a question I would like answered as well."

There was a short, thoughtful silence.

"I know the fastest way to take care of this, Reed. Lemme take him up to the Institute and let Ice Queen take a look at him. If there's anything to be found in that empty head of his, she can find it."

"You know how I, along with many other Avengers, feel about unsanctioned and unwanted psychic evaluations, Logan."

Logan opened his mouth—

"And before you try to force some nonsensical claim of how dangerous _not_ purposefully and knowingly violating his privacy is, I remind you of all the times you've been subjected to such treatment."

—and shut it with a growl, his canines snapping together with an audible click.

"You're not being smart, Richards."

"I refuse to engage in any unethical acts without first obtaining his permission, which I find it highly unlikely we'll get."

Reed turned slightly and tapped a few keys on the monitor, where the results of a more detailed scan of Naruto's DNA were being compiled. Logan folded his arms across his chest, annoyed that Reed was being so incredibly dense. Being ethical was all fine and good as long as it didn't conflict with a guy's interests in remaining safe and alive.

"So as long as I get him to agree, I can take the kid to see her?"

"Yes, Logan," Reed said without turning his head from the monitor. "But! You _must_ impress upon the boy the nature of what he'll be subjecting himself. Not everyone is comfortable with placing themselves under so intense a scrutiny such as that of Emma Frost."

"Don't I know it," Wolverine muttered caustically.

"If you do happen to obtain his permission, have him back in two days at the most. I'm sure I'll be able to come up with a more reasonable explanation of who and what his by the time you return."

And with that, the clacking and clattering of keystrokes nearly drowned out the cool hiss of the air conditioning; a clear dismissal if Logan had ever heard one. A scowl on his face, Logan stomped out of the room and back to where the boy and Spiderman were. Logan paused at the doorframe, observing the staring contest between the wallcrawler and the strange boy.

_~You know, I think that a wall would have an easier time beating Webhead in a staring contest. I've seen the guy actually fall asleep during a meeting with none the wiser. That mask of his is a pain in the ass.~_

Startled, the two broke eye contact and craned their heads in Logan's direction. He stalked forward and dropped down onto a stool in front of the two.

"What's up, Doc?" Spiderman asked cheerfully.

Logan glared and the kid just glanced at him confusedly.

"Oh yeah. Forgot I was dealing with Mr. Too-Badass-For-Humor and his sidekick, Culturally Challenged Kid."

The X-Man snorted in contempt.

"My idea of humor and your own are about as similar to our ideas on fashion." Logan smirked and made a great show of eyeing Spiderman's spandex clad form.

"Hey!" Spidey protested, "I spent a week coming up with this costume!"

"And that makes it any less seizure inducing how?"

Not giving the arachnid a chance to respond, he turned to the kid and addressed him.

_~Here's the deal, kid. We think that we may have a way to restore your memories. It's risky, but it's the best plan that we've got.~_

Looking slightly suspicious, Naruto asked, _~What plan is that?~_

Now, Logan had his own sense of honor and a set of principles. For instance, if he gave his word to someone, whether they be friend or foe, he'd keep it, even if it meant his death. However, when if came to self-preservation, or the safety of those he considered his friends, Logan wasn't above bending his code of morals to ensure that safety.

He despised liars. His life revolved and had been built around lies. He had lived and breathed them for so long that he sometimes felt that people lied just as easily as breathing, if only to perpetuate the lies that ran the rest of the world.

Logan had never lied nor would he ever consider it.

But…he had become extremely skilled in the art of being misleading with the truth.

_~I think a psychic could solve the problem.~_

Spiderman perked up at the mention of psychics and fixed his gaze on Logan, who calmly ignored him. Spiderman was kicking himself for not learning a few extra languages besides mangled Spanish.

_~A psychic?~_

Logan grimaced in annoyance. Explaining psychics to someone who didn't even have the faintest idea of what a hero was would be a daunting task.

_~Psychics are people who can do extraordinary things with their minds. The most common ability they all share is the ability to read minds. Stronger psychics can even erase and restore memories.~_

Logan carefully omitted the fact that the more powerful psychics could fry his mind with a mere thought. Strangely, the boy seemed comfortable with the idea of psychics, even if his face was fixed in a slightly puzzled expression.

_~So…this psychick,~ _The hero perched on the wall snickered at his pronunciation_ ~, is going to root around in my head and give me my memories back? Won't they see them? Some of that stuff might be private.~_

_~Most psychics have a strict moral code regarding their telepathic powers. They never use their abilities on someone who hasn't given them permission. It can't be helped that some of your memories will be seen during that kind of procedure, but they won't actively search through them, either. ~_

Logan also neglected to mention that the psychic he had in mind most certainly had no compunction against flagrantly violating someone's privacy if she felt like it. Naruto thought for a few moments, then nodded.

_~Fair enough. I don't really understand…but if you think it's a good idea, let's go for it.~_

Logan let none of the surprise he felt at the kid's easy agreement show on his face. To be so trusting, especially in the position the kid was in, was a damn easy way to get yourself stranded up shit creek without a boat, much less an oar. Of course, Naruto didn't fully understand what he was agreeing to, either. He was far too easygoing about the idea of psychics for someone who supposedly had widespread amnesia. More learned men than him had panicked at the mere mention of a psychic even thinking of performing such a procedure, no pun intended.

The small flame of suspicion in the back of Logan's mind flared slightly. Something was off about this kid. He didn't know what, but he'd dig it out eventually.

With his bare hands, if need be.

Logan stood up and gestured to the door that led to the hallway of Naruto's failed escape. _~Let's get you some decent clothes and get outta here. It's a fair way's up to Xavier's.~_

Naruto nodded and headed for the door, Logan in tow.

Spiderman, completely lost, called out, "Uh…I don't think Reed is gonna be happy with wherever you're taking him."

"Do I look like I care?"

"You look like you need a full body bikini wax."

Logan flicked out a very rude middle claw in response before the door whished shut softly, cutting off the retreating figures from Spiderman's sight.

"Well, that was just childish. I don't know how everybody puts up with that guy."

T-T-T-T-T-T

Once Naruto stepped into the elevator and it began its rapid descent, he began asking the gruff man all sorts of irritating questions about said elevator; how fast did it go, what powered it, what material was it made of, etc., etc. The boy could hardly believe that such unbelievable technology could exist. The vague murmurings in the back of his mind could not recall seeing anything of this sort from his previous existence, though he wasn't operating with a great deal of information concerning his past life in the first place.

Logan took it all in stride, answering with what little patience he had, ignoring those questions that he was either ignorant of or had no desire to explain.

The doors opened with a soft ding at the ground floor. He ushered the wide eyed lad, now dressed in a simple white long sleeved shirt, khaki pants, and tennis shoes, across the floor towards the door, ignoring the guards but favoring Sophia with a confident grin. She returned his attention with a slight nod and then returned her attention to her work, whatever that may have been.

They crossed the threshold…and Naruto stopped in his tracks, his jaws dropping and his face flush with surprise.

_~What's the matter, kid? Never been in a big city before?~_

Naruto could only nod dumbly in response. Towering skyscrapers blocked his view of the evening sky. The roar of those demonic beasts drilled into his head. More people than he knew could occupy the same place streamed by him and Logan, chattering to each other or to strange devices that they held up to their ears. It was overwhelming and frightening. Naruto was no stranger to cities but none had been this big, this loud, this…_alien_.

_~What—~_, Naruto swallowed nervously, _~what is this place?~_

Logan made a small encompassing motion with his hand.

_~Welcome to New York. One of the most screwed up cities on God's green earth and home to some of the weirdest people you'll ever have the displeasure to meet.~_

He started down the steps to plaza, getting the boy to follow him with a sharp look. They walked in silence, with Naruto's head whipping violently from side to side in a desperate bid to take in everything at once and somehow keep the entire crowd of people under his eye; an impossible task.

Once they crossed the plaza and merged into the stream of humanity on the sidewalks, it seemed to Naruto that Logan took a meandering path through the city, sometimes ducking down alleyways, sometimes crossing the street at unexpected junctures (nearly causing another accident when Naruto froze in front of traffic), and sometimes backtracking along his previous path to emerge slightly behind their original starting point. Naruto observed as much as he could, refraining from asking Logan anymore questions, his initial excitement overwhelmed by the influx of his outlandish surroundings.

Naruto knew instinctively that the man was being especially careful to hide their trail and destination, wherever that may be. He was not surprised by the thought that Logan might have enemies. In fact, he wryly reflected, it would not surprise him in the least if Logan had a constant stream of enemies out for his blood. Naruto was closer to the truth than he ever would have suspected.

_~Where are we going, exactly?~_

_~I've got my cycle stashed about a block from here. We're headed up to the Institute, about an hour or so upstate.~ _Logan tossed over his shoulder, making a turn yet down another filthy alleyway.

_~And this psychic is at this…Institute?~_

_~Yep.~_

Naruto, sensing Logan's unwillingness to explain more than he had to, remained silent and wide-eyed, choosing to concentrate on his surroundings once more.

He was in the middle of gaping at a rat that just had to be bigger than the biggest housecat he'd ever seen—

(and a dim memory of three children chasing a demonic feline through a brightly lit forest tried to swim to the forefront of his conciousness)

—and he walked facefirst into Logan's unyielding back, causing his nose to twinge painfully with the impact.

Logan was standing stock still, tense and alert.

_~What's wrong, old man?~_

Naruto peered around Logan to see what was the cause of his sudden stop, only to gape yet again.

He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

At the mouth of the alley, where a crowded sidewalk and busy street should have been, there was an empty, run down street running in the same direction as the alleyway.. Absurdly, there was a signpost at juncture where the mouth of the alley and the out of place street met.

Though Naruto couldn't read English, Logan knew very well the name of the street before them.

Bleecker Street.

Once a haven for the more bohemian aspects of American culture, it's now mostly known for its appeal as a Greenwich Village nightclub district.

"Oh, don't you _dare_ pull this shit on me, Strange." Logan snarled angrily.

He whirled around and shoved past Naruto, who was extremely confused at the appearance of a street where it obviously should not be and at Logan's apparent anger at said street's appearance. Naruto turned to follow Logan and demand some answers, when he ran into the man's steel like back yet again.

Goddammit it all! His nose was already red from the abuse as he crossed his eyes to inspect the damage. Cradling his sore nose, Naruto peered around Logan's side for a second time, only to be visited with an astounding view.

The signpost and the beginnings of an empty street.

Logan was trembling.

Not in fear, but anger. He didn't like being herded to a destination like so much cattle. People like Stephen Strange had little concern for the ego and well being of others, so long as they came quietly and willingly, which equated to him giving them no choice in the matter.

Naruto, on the other hand, was understandably confused and more than a little frightened. Even in a world with such fascinating and otherworldly technology, Naruto was quite sure that one did not ordinarily find the same entrance to a street at separate locations…especially one right across from the other.

_~What's going on, old man?~_

Logan was silent for a moment. Then, he started forwards, Naruto scampering to catch up.

_~We're off the see the fucking Wizard of Oz, that's what's going on.~_

In a fit of anger, Logan unsheathed his adamantium claws and sliced through the neon green signpost, rendering its quaint lettering unreadable.

* * *

I've long since given up any pretense of being a punctual or regular writer. I will no longer apologize for the time in between chapters of various fics. I write when I write. No more, no less.

On the bright side, I've decided that I really need to continue work on the newest chapter of Initial Offensive, so expect a new chapter there…eventually.


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